Clean
by InYerFace
Summary: Mixture of perfect and poorest. Success and Failure. Enter the lives of two friends that have know of each other for years, but have not actually KNOWN each other... until now. KennyxKyle
1. Clean: One

Clean: One

Too True, as The Sky is Blue.

---Start---

Picture this: Happy family. Happy home. Happy everything. Perfect. Perfect life. Perfect, perfect.

You'd think you'd get sick of it after awhile. And that person in the mirror looks way too perfect. You wish you had their life, but you wished you could enjoy it much more. Perfect. Perfect, perfect.

I know it sounds pretty retarded. Extremely. More than that. But no matter how much I try to convince myself I live the dream life, perfect never seems so perfect. And I know a lot of other people have it worse than me. I kind of wish my life was a little less perfect, so I could worry about something other than perfectionism.

My grades are above normal. Especially for the hick town I live in. It's just in my Jew blood to be this way. I guess. Maybe God's giving me a perfect life because I could never get into heaven. I could be wrong. But I never am.

Have you ever woken up from a dream? One that scared you so bad that your sitting up and sweating? Sure, sounds normal. But how about when you're sitting in the dark wondering what your dream was? You just had the dream two seconds ago and now you feel like an idiot because you have no idea what scared you so much. What woke you up so fast?

---Two Minutes---

The alarm starts up, giving me a _friendly_ reminder that it's time to start a new day. Yeah, as friendly as free falling without a parachute. That will smack you back to reality really fast.

It was another below zero day in the quiet mountain town of Hell. You'd think there would be a nice, warm, sunny day, but no. We don't get a say. It's like voting. Voting's like wishing or betting. Betting on which douche bag crosses the finish line first. And it's never the one you want. Dark, cloudy, and cold. Looks like Bush won the race again.

---Once Again---

Ready enough as I was, I gathered my things together. Either happy or sad. I couldn't tell. I just knew Cartman was going to say something about me again. It's an everyday thing. Routine. So natural now, that if he _didn't_ say anything it would be weird. I hate him. I hate him for the same reason he hates me. We don't have a reason. We just _do._ I'm just the butt of a joke.

"Hey, Look!" Right on cue. Goddamn. "It's Jew-boy and his little dildo brother. Go be Jewish somewhere else." His _genius_ smirk triumphed on his chubby face. He has it out for me. If my misery weren't the only thing making his world go 'round, he'd have killed me years ago.

"I would if I could," I snapped, pulling my brother's arm next to Stan and as far away from the fat asshole as possible. Which wasn't far, since Stan's body was the only thing separating us.

"Go be Jewish somewhere else," my brother repeated fat-ass's words. Whether he was brainless or actually looked up to that thing I'm suppose to call a friend, I didn't know. And personally didn't care.

Being a Jew sucks. I don't feel any different, but people look at you different. It's as bad as being a retard. You're limited on everything. Christmas, Christmas snow, being tough, and getting the girl. At least that's life according to Cartman. Retards have it easy though. They don't know they're retards. I wonder if Cartman knows he's retarded.

"Go be Jewish somewhere else," the short Canadian, that is supposedly my brother, whines out this time. I think he looks up to Cartman. I don't blame him, Cartman's so big I don't think anyone can do anything _but_ look up to him. My brother yanks our hand apart and bounces over to fat-ass and grabs his hand. Right when I didn't think I could feel worse, his eyes gave me the most evil look possible. I bet he wishes he could have a normal brother like Cartman. Instead, he's stuck with a perfect brother like me.

I let my eyes fall to Stan, but he didn't see what just happened. I didn't expect him to either. He's been really self involved with Wendy's letters. And he was still on the depressed side since Wendy moved away to a better school far from these mountains. The only thing connecting them now is mail.

He loves that girl to death. You can tell. That's all we've talked about. Not talking, more like spazzing.

I admit, I'm sort of afraid. My best friend might leave so he can have a happily ever after.

"Where's Kenny?" I asked, even if I could care less. I was just sick of watching Stan hunching over his letter, and hearing the other two whispering about God knows what Jewish joke.

I watched, half expecting Stan to shrug or do something. But nothing. His eyes were wide, reading with pure focus of the fuchsia inked words. Reading word-for-word and memorizing down to each period. You'd think he was studying for an entrance exam.

I looked down at my brand new shoes my mom bought me today. I was ashamed to say anything about them because I knew there was a Jewish joke with my name written all over it. Stereotypes suck. So is religion. Who ever thought up that anyway?

So, my question was ignored. Not even the wind wanted to answer today. I didn't think anyone cared where Kenny was. I knew I didn't. No one. He could be dead for all we cared.

---Repetitive---

I made my way to the counselor's office. Steps in front of the others. Walking in a straight line. I came here regularly. They replaced this with lunch. It was going to replace one of my honors classes, but I complained that I wouldn't have enough credits. That was a lie. I'd have more than enough to graduate. Every single day. I come here.

One class that I don't have honors in, is gym. Physical Education to be exact. I got in trouble awhile back. I wacked Cartman in the face with a bat because he said Jews couldn't play baseball. I wish I could have played long enough to see if he was right.

My knuckles hit the door gently and I opened it slightly. "Mr. Mackey? Can I come in?" I always asked. A polite habit. A perfect habit.

"Sure. Come in, M'kay?" This counselor and me go way back. Back until the first time Cartman found out I was a Jew.

I led myself in and closed the door behind me. I took a seat in the little plastic chair in front of his desk and pressed my palms together. I was quiet. I never really had anything to say. I knew I could go on and on about stuff and bitch until I was out of breath, but I couldn't find anything to say to him, regardless of our history. "Look," I started, "When can we stop meeting like this?"

"Well," He mumbled, looking through a couple folders, "Until you've gotten everything off your chest, M'kay? Until you give me a reason for…" His face came closer to a piece of paper and began reading off it, "Striking Eric Cartman with a baseball bat." His eyes looked up to me now, "M'kay. Hitting people with P.E. equipment is bad."

Did he seriously want a reason for that? "He's Cartman. What else do you want me to say?" I folded my arms up, half expecting him to understand what I was getting at.

"Well, you have to learn to ignore people like that, M'kay? Maybe you should try being nice when he's bothering you, M'kay?" He sat back a little, wrapping his tiny stubs for fingers into each other and placing them on his lap, "Maybe he just wants to be your friend, M'kay?"

"No! Cartman wants to ruin my life! He's out to get me!" I slammed my palms to his desk, wondering if that big head of his was nothing but air.

"No one's out to get you, M'kay? It might seem like that, but you need to learn to deal with situations like this, M'kay?" After seeing my mood hadn't changed, he shook his head in disappointment, "Have you given him a chance?"

I looked at him, like he was the retard he was. "Yes!" I stood from my seat and just wanted for him to understand. Or anyone. Just one person to understand what that fat asshole does on his free time. These people were paid to help me. Start helping me, or take your unrewarded, fat checks out of my face.

"Kyle, if you're not going to cooperate, you can just leave, M'kay? But if you really want to stop coming here everyday, you'll sit down and listen, M'kay?" He rustled through his papers again, getting ready for me to leave because him and I both knew I was too stubborn to give Cartman anymore chances.

"Fine," I was sick of arguing with him. I didn't even want to talk to him. I turned to the door, while kicking the chair out from my way.

"If you're not going to talk, M'kay? Do the office a favor and bring Mr. McCormick's absent work to him," He handed the papers to the open air between us, "Then, I'll see you tomorrow, M'kay?"

I walked back and took the pile of papers wondering why I should bother to give Kenny his Homework. He's not going to do it. I nodded and mumbled a quiet "M'kay" as I walked out the door. If I knew I was going to do all of this, I probably would have hit Cartman a lot harder.

---Ghetto---

This town has grown a lot. Compared to years before. So, now we have a real ghetto. They tore down the houses on the far side of the train tracks and shoved a small trailer park there, and gave it a creative name like _East Park_. People who live there are the drunkards, junkies, and the poorest hicks. The true low lives and failures to society.

I can't tell if the homes are for people and the rats live with them, or it's the rat's home and the people kicked them out.

While I was walking through there, I kind of wished I knew which home was his. I haven't been over since, Ever. But I figured he'd just be hanging out on his front porch.

I remember Cartman saying this place smelled like the wrong side of a dead animal's ass. I hate admitting Cartman's right. God, more than ever. I'd jump off the roof before I did that. But I better start jumping. This place smelled horrible.

"Kyle!?" I heard him. He wasn't far from me. I was glad he found me instead of the other way around. He sounded a little weird that I was there, but still happy I was too. I guess it would be kind of weird to see your richest friend hanging around the worst part of town.

I turned myself so I was facing him.

He was dressed for a normal day. Orange fabric tore, little slits. Some trying to stay closed with badly tied piece of string and a mixture of colored patches poorly sown on top of bigger holes. Dirty bangs hung over his oily face with a purplish black mark scored around of his one eyes. He smiled with off white teeth that had an empty space three teeth from the right. His chapped lips wrapped around his cigarette as he grabbed one of my hands with both of his for a shake. "What're you doin' here?"

I had almost forgotten why I was there myself, but I found my voice after I pulled my hand back, "I'm just dropping off the stuff you missed." My hand sneaked into my backpack and brought out the folder with the pile of papers.

"Ya don't have to go through that trouble," He gave me a shrug as his snatched the folder from my hands. He searched the pockets and took out the papers that would most likely do nothing but collect dust. He read through them, a couple bare fingers touching from the holes in his brown gloves. He gave me another smile, with that one visible tooth missing.

I fixed my book bag back in place and took a couple steps back. I think I was getting use to the smell, but I still wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I was in this place, _I_ probably smelled weird to everyone else.

"I …uh, would let ya come inside, but uh…" He trailed off and pointed to one of the mobile homes. To his. The porch was a porch. It just stood there as the home itself could go wherever the Hell it wanted. It was now rocking back and forth as the two grown ups inside screamed at one another. With that point, he didn't need to finish the sentence. I understood.

"That's cool," It wasn't like I wanted to stay long anyway. I shrugged and gave him a wave, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He stood there stiffly before answering, "Oh yeah. Sure." I would bet any money if he didn't come to school the following day, but I'm sure it didn't matter. And I'm not exactly sure if I should _care_ either.

---Home Sweet Home---

I can't step one foot in the door before being stopped by my mother. Sometimes I wonder how I could possibly be related to that woman, but other times I can see the distinct similarities. I can't complain that much. Because the only real times she's on my ass it's because of something _I_ did wrong. Extremely bad, or minor, she's on my ass either way.

"Kyle, have you cleaned your room yet?" "Did you forget to flush the toilet again?" "Brush! Floss, Kyle!" "Where has that finger been, Kyle!" ---

My phone rings before I can rant anymore in my head. It's a good thing too, because I could go on for hours with that subject. "Hello?"

With that one word, I can already tell Stan's on the receiver. I can only whisper a 'Goddamn it' before I know he had called because he is depressed about Wendy. "Dude, she won't answer. I called. I called _five_ times! Messages and everything! She won't answer." I personally think Stan's words sound like gothic poetry when he's upset. Without even trying, it can get on my last nerve.

"Chill. She'll call back. She's probably just busy. You know, doing _girl_ things," I take a seat on the couch, knowing I was going to be on the phone for awhile. That, or all night until Wendy picks up on the other side of Stan's phone and I'm stuck sitting on the couch listening to no one for about another hour until he's done talking to the girl. Then, he'll flash back over to me and tell me how amazing she is for yet another hour until his mom kicks him off the phone. I've learned by now to get my homework ready once he calls. This conversation gets so old sometimes, I wonder if this is how a telemarketer feels. That, or a psychiatrist. Sometimes I wonder if I should ask how that makes him feel.

"I think she's ignoring me. Maybe she found someone else. Found someone else and left me here to rot. She won't call me back! She's ignoring me," His monotone voice is almost as bad as listening to a dripping faucet while you have to pee really bad.

"Maybe she needs some space," I commented with a pencil about to write a problem down from my math homework. Math. Easy. It's as repetitive as everything else. Nothing changes. Rules just alter a little. As long as you follow the rules, you're all good.

He obviously didn't like what I had just said. "What?" Clearly offended, "Are you calling me clingy, dude!?" His voice went deeper, "I can't even turn to my best friend anymore. My best friend in the whole world has turned his back to me! How could you do this to me at a time like this!"

I had to roll my eyes at the overly dramatic act he was giving me, "I'm not turning my back on you." I practically sighed the words out, sick of having a fight about nothing in particular. The only one who was fighting was him, "Turning my back on you would be like saying, 'Go fuck yourself, Stan. I'm sick of helping you with your pussy ass girl problems! Go find someone who cares!'" I actually really did feel like saying that to him. Maybe I was turning my back on him, then again, he hasn't been acting like a very _normal_ friend for the past week.

"I knew it!" And of course, me and my big mouth, he took what I said out of terms. "Fine, Kyle! Fine! I don't need you!"

"You don't need _me_! You need that whore of a girlfriend!" Why words were exploding from my mouth, I had no idea? "The only thing you expect me to do is hand Wendy over to you! News flash, dude! Life doesn't work like that!"

"You don't know how I feel," How many times have I heard that line? "I'm suffering. My heart is breaking in half and the only thing you can do is drag me down farther!"

"What? Did you get those words from your poetry books or your gothic songs?" I felt like pulling out every single one of my curly red hairs that were in my face, "Find a new girl, dude! She's not worth all this. No girl is!" I hung up early on purpose because I didn't feel like listening to any more of his 'pain' and 'suffering.' He wasn't 'goth' anymore, but he wasn't fully 'un-goth' either. It's sort of like that saying "once you go black, you never go back." But picture nonconformists in it's place.

My eyes fell to my brother who had been listening by the edge of the kitchen doorway. His dark brows lowered over his eyes slightly and repeated mom's words that, "Dinner's ready." His hand slid on the wall back into the kitchen.

I held my head, finishing up a math problem. I don't like to control my anger, I just let it do whatever the Hell it wants. And right now it wants to fill my skull cavities and put as much pressure on it as possible. I felt like an ass. A complete and total ass. But I'm sick of this perfect life.

What if _I_ wanted to be the one with a problem for once?

---Amity Less---

"Kyle, what have you said to that poor boy now?" Is what I get once I take a seat at the table. "You use to be such a good kid. First you hit that Eric kid. Now, you're yelling at Stanley."

On cue, my dad shined in, "At this rate you won't have any friends. Do you really want that, son?"

"Cartman is the rudest, most racist bastard in school! I have a reason for knocking some sense into him," I tried.

"I don't know what to believe," Mom's motherly voice came to me with all out concern, "I've talked to Mrs. Cartman she said she hasn't had any problems with her boy. Even Ike can get along with him. They're actually very good friends." Congratulations…

"And I remember having the boy come over and apologize to you personally," My dad always has something to add to mom's statements, in which makes me look like the bad guy.

"Apologize!" My brother repeated, jabbing the opposite side of his fork into the table.

"I'm not excepting that fat-ass's fucking apology!" My words attacked. And if words could kill, those are the ones that would do it.

"That is it, Kyle! I will no longer take those dirty words at my table. March yourself right up to your room and your father will have a talk with you after!" The queen bitch said. She would have stood up if she hadn't slapped her food on her plate.

"Me?" My dad asked, looking at his wife.

I saved him the trouble, "Whatever. I'm going to bed." I lifted myself up and headed out of the kitchen. Now, I _really_ felt bad for yelling at Stan. He would get over it by tomorrow.

Hopefully.

---Sun Rise---

I woke up a few minutes before the alarm. That's only because it felt like someone was staring at me. And this morning, that someone was Ike.

My eyes squinted at his figure and I rolled over, wanting five more minutes, "Go away!" I squeaked, not wanting to be annoyed by him.

"Go away!" He repeated. I don't know why he doesn't use his own words by now. He wasn't a little kid anymore. He had a brain of his own. Well, I thought he did.

"Is this about last night?" I rolled back over to face him, miscellaneous curls of hair bouncing in my eyes, "I hate Cartman. I'm sorry. You might like him, but I don't." I waited, but there was nothing. "I said I'm sorry! How am I suppose to get rid of you?"

"Cartman hate you," He started, copy and pasting my words together to make a sentence. "Cartman get rid of you!" He gave me a smile and bounced out of the room.

If it wasn't so dark in my room right now, I would have been a lot less scared. But I could help but have a chill go down my spine. Would Cartman _really_ kill me?

---Enter, Butt of a Joke---

Ike left early today so he could hang out with his cool brother before the bus stop. He could have fun with that because Cartman doesn't get his ass out of bed until five minutes before the bus pulls away (Not really, but he wakes up pretty late). I guess, for him, it would be better watching the fat ass sleep, then be stuck with me, waiting on me to get out of the shower.

I made my way down the soggy street. I wouldn't expect anyone to talk to me today. And to tell the truth, I didn't feel like trying. Well, maybe I would at least say sorry to Stan. He's been a mess lately and it was totally un-cool for me to yell at him, and stuff.

Once I got into sight of my so-called friends at the bus stop, I could tell something was up. Cartman had that grin like he was about to do something evil. And it would be me. I didn't really have anyone on my side today. This could possibly be the day Cartman goes in for the kill.

I walked closer to where Stan was, but he just tilted his head away and moved so there was still a big gaping space between us. He didn't want an apology, and I didn't have one for him. He wasn't crying his eyes out so my guess is that he got a hold of little miss sunshine.

I shook my head and looked the opposite way.

"Aw, that's cute. The faggots are fighting," Cartman could have toppled over laughing. At what? God only knows. A weak joke like that didn't need that much applause. He could have at least come up with something creative. But I have to remember, this is Cartman we're dealing with.

"Faggots!" Ike chimed, now giving the fat-ass a high-five.

It was seriously pissing me off. It was worse when I didn't have Stan there to calm me down. It pissed me off even more that Stan took the joke and Ike was adding to the pressure. Whose side where these people on anyway!? It felt like I was the bad guy when everyone knows damn well Cartman was.

"Shut your lazy, beached whale mouth up!" I turned and screamed. My face felt like a million degrees and rising. Was it was the color of my hair yet? All I knew is that it was hot and my teeth wanted to break from pressing them together so hard.

"OoOoOh! The Jew-fag talks," He barley folded his thick arms across his pudgy chest and looked over to my little brother who was now folding his arms too. "Why don't you two fuck and make out," one eyebrow rose, "You know you want to. You can't tell me somewhere in that Jewish blood doesn't want to. Prove me wrong, Kyle. Prove me wrong."

Not one word was going into my ear (or registering at least). It was a constant nagging sound pulling at my ear that said 'I'm better than you in every way, shape, and form.' My Jewish blood wasn't telling me to fuck my friend, but it was boiling over in my veins and telling me to fuck Cartman up.

Kenny's half silent laughter came closer to us, "It's a little too early for the fag jokes, dude." His bright blue eyes went to Cartman, stopping next to him, "Yer gunna get yerself killed." He covered his mouth for more giggles to release from his throat, "I'll die laughin' if he gives you another black eye."

"Laugh now, but five bucks that they'd do each other," The fat ass went as far as to pull out a Lincoln out from his pocket and wave it in Kenny's face, "Five whole dollars, you poor piece of crap."

He rolled his eyes and snatched the money from the other's thick fingers and gave a silent 'Thank-you' as he walked my way. He hung his dirt infested arm loosely around my shoulders, "Looks like you lost a bet." He gave me a quick wink as the bus came skidding down the street right on time. He let go, as if he wanted to be the first person on.

Cartman watched confused, ignoring the fact he indirectly got cheated out of his money. He gave me a disgusted look, but put his 'I'm way better than you' face back on before tugging my brother along second in line.

I looked back to Stan, who's eyes were set on me, until I looked that direction. His head turned the opposite way as me and followed suit with the others.

Is it too late to say Sorry?

---Partly Cloudy---

You hear the weirdest conversations while you're walking down the hallways. You eavesdrop on things you really don't want to be eavesdropping on.

"The whole world is my bathroom!"

"Fine. I'm blonde, but at least I live up to all the jokes."

"I'll kill him. I really will!"

"You're favorite color's blue? You told Kristy it was green."

"Camo is totally out. Who are you anyway?"

And then, you have the people you really don't mean to run into.

3,2,1, crash and burn.

And of course, every book falls from my arms as I'm standing closer than I would hope to a taller person than me. I mumble a "Sorry," before racing to the floor so I can grab my shit and run. I didn't need another person after me.

"Chill. It's cool," The guy joined me to the floor and help me pile my stuff together. But I noticed that off white, missing toothed smile.

"Kenny?" I was half relieved it was someone I knew (that wasn't pissed as hell at me). At an even timing, we both stood up. I had a fourth of my stuff and he had the rest. "I didn't mean to run into you, dude."

He gave me a shrug, "I didn't mind it." He held out his arms and put my junk back in place. "We should run into each other more often," He said in a joking tone of voice. His finger hit his lower lip with thought, "What's up with you 'n Stan?" He started walking.

So did I. For some reason, we seemed to be heading in the same direction. I was reminded of the Stan thing again. My head lowered and my eyes traveled away. Far from him. "It's nothing. I said some things I really shouldn't have and he hates me. End of story."

"Wai… End a story? You two've been friends so long," He frowned now, not of sadness, maybe more of pity. He saw that I wasn't communicating after that, he had his hand fall on my shoulder, "You'll make up. I know you two. Best friends 'till the end."

I tried to force myself to smile, since he was trying to too. "I don't know?" I moved farther so his hand would brush off me. This was my stop. I had a class to be at. If I looked as upset as I was, he could read me like a book, "Things change." That sentence was my only 'good-bye' I gave him as I entered the room, and left him hanging out the door.

---Wish---

"I wanna show ya something!" His holy glove helped me out of the window, and onto his roof. It was the thought that counted.

I shook my head, scared, "No, dude. That's crazy!" I whined, half my ass hanging out the window anyway. I held onto his arm with all strength, but wouldn't go any further than this.

What were we doing? Something he 'supposedly' does every day, before he goes to sleep. I'm at Kenny's house on wheels. He wants to get me up on the roof and show me something 'amazing.'

I would back up to the part of _why_ I was over, but that answer is simple. I hardly had anyone else to go to, and I needed someone to talk to. I didn't think twice about being with him until I ran into him at school. He never really counted as a person before.

He tried pulling me up some more, "Hey! You're almost there, Kosher-boy!" He smiled, laughing at my minor fear, "Just a couple more feet!" Then, with a sincere voice he said, "Trust me. I won't let you fall."

My eyes opened for him, reflecting that same trusting look on his face. My feet griped the window sill and held tight as he reeled me up. My feet slipped and freaked out as he had me by both my wrists. Once my feet got to something solid, I flung forward closer than I should be to him.

"See? That wasn't so hard," He watched me for a long second, hands still loosely around my wrists. His eyes finally left as he looked up at the sky, "Check it out, dude."

My head tilted up, looking at all the bright lights, shimmering in the pool of dark blue. I never really realized how small we really were. I never really realized how big everything else is. I never realized the sky at all. I was living a perfect life, and there was no sky. "It's amazing," I whispered exactly how he described it.

He led me down, so we could lay on top of his roof. It shook once in a great while from his parents fighting, but it was ignored and swallowed into the enormous blue sky.

"I masturbate up here," He commented totally serious.

I head turned quickly to him, and my eyes were glued wide open. That had to be the freakiest thing anyone has ever said at the most random time.

He looked at my expression and laugh, "Just kiddin'." He smiled at the sky, as if laughing at me for believing it.

It isn't _hard_ to believe since he's made so many perverted jokes in the past. But at the same time, you don't know. I guess I don't know him so well friend-wise.

"If you had one wish in the world," He stop, moving his finger around, as if pretending to play with the stars, "what would _you_ wish for?"

I laid there to think. Bright lights calmed my thinking, or maybe it was the house's rocking. I shrugged once, "I just want everyone to get along." I know it sounded like a cliché answer to give, but maybe I'm a cliché kind of person. I was a little curious about what he would wish for. I turned to him, "You?"

He let out a small laugh, probably at my answer, but when he looked back up at the sky, everything vanished from his face. As if getting lost in the shimmering ocean of lights and darks. "I kind of wish my parents didn't have me."

I smiled and let myself laugh at that. I seriously thought it was another joke, because he has never taken anything to heart. Everything melted inside me when he looked back at me with the same look on his face. He was telling me the truth. Just as everything melted, it froze in place, causing me to shiver. "I'm sorry," I looked back up at the sky, hoping he except this half-hearted apology.

He shook his head, "It's cool. I get that reaction." He joined me at looking at the stars again, "Sometimes I think it would be a lot easier on everyone if I wasn't here. Especially my parents. I know they fight 'bout money. They fight 'bout hating each other. Hell, they fight 'bout me too. If they didn't have me as a responsibility, maybe they'd finally be happy."

"Hey, don't say that," I felt the home rock under us once again, "They still love each other. I'm sure. Everyone fights." At that moment I thought about Stan. Maybe I was wrong.

He half smiled and gave his head a shake, "I don't expect you to understand, dude." His eyes came to me, giving a full smile now, "I'm just glad you came, ya know? It's been a little dull since my bro left 'n all."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I just noticed how many times I said sorry today. Too many to count. I probably figure if I say it more, then it will make up for yesterday, but that's not how it works, does it. "Where'd he go?"

"He hit twenty and my parents didn't want him. He mentioned somethin' 'bout the army, but I have a feelin' that didn't work out," He fiddled his fingers between the holes of his brown gloves, "He's too afraid to die 'n shit. To him, it ain't worth it."

"You're going to get all depressed on me too?" I asked, more of a joke. He could tell I was joking too. He didn't sound 'depressed' when he talked about life. It was more like he excepted it. The only way to truly live, with no regrets.

"What're you afraid of?" His face turned towards me again. I thought it was an awkward question. Random and out there. But that's how Kenny was, "We've been friends for a long time, but I've never really _known_ ya."

I shrugged, "Maybe the dark." Well, not of the dark. If you don't know where you're going that sucks. Maybe, afraid of falling? "Maybe Cartman threatening to kill me?" Another joke. Maybe.

"Lots of people are afraid of dyin,' huh?" He placed his hand on my hat and gave me a uncomfortable grin, "But why of Cartman? He's full of words, 'n nothin' else and ya know that." He let his hand slide off, giving me a warm smile now, "He means well. Drivin' people nuts is the only thing he knows how ta do. And if that's the case, yer his best friend."

I tore my eyes from him, but kept a smile, "Doubtfully." Cartman. Eric Cartman? Never. His heart is a black hole that feeds off other people's egos. He's the greediest of the greedy. Evilest of evil. And racist of them all. Everyone hates him, and he hates everyone. They hate him so much that they'll actually listen to the bullshit he has to give. His name is Pure evil itself.

E-vil

R-acist

I-ncompatible

C-artman

Must I say more?

He just left what I said alone instead of arguing, "Believe what you want." He pulled out his PSP and hooked the headphones to it. He handed me the left one as he put in the right one.

"Kenny. You're family's poor, right?" I asked, knowing how stupid my question sounded after leaving it hang. I decided to finish before he could answer, "How can you afford a PSP?"

He looked up at the night sky again, with his same off white smile, "Let's just say it's a gift." Fingers moving rapidly over the black buttons through his play list, "A very special gift."

In my head, I could see Kenny saving up money he's mooched off Cartman. I couldn't see him getting it any other way, besides stealing it. But I'd doubt Kenny would go through that effort when there are other ways to do things. I let my eyes wonder to the sky once more, having the music drowned out everything around me. And everything in me. I was suddenly not feeling guilty about Stan, or scared about Cartman. I was relaxed. I've found peace on the strangest place on Earth. On top a trailer home, over two adults fighting an on-going war, with one of my poorest friends. I've never felt this at ease.

It was different.

It was nice.


	2. Clean: Two

Clean: Two

Bring Back, the Heart Attack.

---Start---

It was beautiful. My bedroom felt so open. There was no more pressure. The wide open space, and air was pure. So fresh. New. It felt like a new day. The newest day of my life. The familiar play list soaked into my ears, beating away at my problems for me. Could I live such a perfect day? My eyes weren't even open yet.

I felt a slight nudge at my shoulder. Everything that I was feeling was gone, and all I could see was black. I swatted the hand away from me, which was more of an elbow, "Ike! Go away! My alarm didn't go off yet!" I cried, cuddling closer to something that felt like my comforter.

"Yers didn't, but mine did," Kenny's voice? I could have sworn that's what it sounded like, but why in all Hell would he be in my room?

I let my eyes open. It's weird. When I wake up for school in the morning, it's usually pretty dark. ..And a lot warmer. It felt like I was outside. All I could heard was the soothing music playing in my left ear. I had to give myself a good thirty seconds before I realized where I was. Where I still was. My body jerked up and looked around with disbelief. And the only thing I could think of was "My mom's going to kill me!" over and over again.

He gave me an over joyed smile, "Haven't had anyone sleep here since the chickenpox outbreak." He got up to his feet once he saw I was awake. "I wouldda woke you up, but you looked like you haven't slept for a week." He slowly leveled his head down to one of the windows, looking inside. He came back up, "Looks like my dad went to the bar. Wanna come in?"

I guess it was normal for Kenny's dad to go to the bar. But he said it like his dad was gone to go to the store, or something. I really could have cared less. My stomach was still dropping because now I realized I left my cell at home because I thought I'd be back home after this. "Sure," My eyes watched him shaky, "How do we get in from here?"

His chapped lips uncovered his off-whites as he stood towards the edge of the roof. "Easy," One foot after the other, he hopped off, feet leaving the home, and met the ground, as if he had done it a million times over.

I crawled over to the side of the roof and shook my head, "Nuh-uh. I'm so not doing that." My fingers were holding onto the top as if I were going somewhere.

He gave me a shrug, "Have it yer way. Find yer own way down than." He crossed his thin arms over his chest and watched with amusement from what I would do next.

I wonder how stupid this sounds: on the roof of a trailer house. You just saw your friend jump off it. Why can't you? Are you afraid? Or do you just not want to follow? Maybe my greatest fear is _heights._ It's not like I haven't jumped off my own roof before.

With that, I tightened every muscle up in my body and just let go. I picture the relaxing music in my ear and fell. It's not as painful if you stop thinking about it. But it wasn't something I'd make an everyday thing. I was awake now. I hurt worse. Not by much.

I bet it looked just like a bad cartoon. Kenny's arms were spread out , but I fell just far enough to miss him and fall straight on my back. I would have laughed if my spine wasn't shooting signals up and down my back. Throbbing my heart beat.

Ow… ow… ow… ow….

He laughed, but only at his mistake. Laughter is funny (weird). We do it when we're happy and nervous. He was doing a nervous laugh. The happy laugh can be one of two things. Innocent and evil. Depends what you're laughing at. Evil- when a handicap person falls out of his wheelchair and you can't help, but burst into laughter. Innocent- Making a stupid mistake and you laugh with everyone else. I guess laughing at Jews Innocent/evil. Depends who you are, where you're from, and how you react to that sort of thing.

After it numbed a little, I brought myself to stand. I ignored the possible wet spot on my back and stood there like a cripple without his walker.

If you break your back good enough, you could loose feeling in your whole body. But with me, that isn't the case. Maybe I could control my anger a little more if I lost all feeling, but that's the only plus side. I would still be a Jew. But now, I'd be a cripple Jew. I'd fall lower into the ass of the joke I'm in.

"Um… the door's this way," He announced as if I never seen a door before. But he gave me the footing to actually get there.

I followed, taking a better look at where I was. I almost stepped on a family of rats, as they scrambled away from my feet, faster than ever. His house was dented as if someone took it for a joy ride. But you couldn't. I noticed a missing wheel on the trailer, holding it up with a pile of bricks. Hooray, you just entered heaven.

---Fast Break---

The toaster made the quick _Spring_ noise as two piece of burnt toast raised from it. Smokey, only for a little bit, as the rancid smell defused with the not so great air inside his home.

"Dammit!" He cursed picking up the two piece of bread fast, as if it would stop them from being black. The only thing he got was his fingers roasted, as he dropped the two slices on a plate, playing it off like it didn't hurt at all. His eyes looked over the two with a very concentrated look, then at the empty bag of bread. He slammed his back into the counter and put a cigarette between his lips, lighting it (Which added more to the smell). "Just like ma," He inhaled in, then exhaled, "Cookin' just ain't my thing." He slapped the bag into the garbage can.

Well, I should say over, because it floated one way and ended up on the ground. It didn't stay there for long, since a couple of rats quickly ran away with it.

After seeing that (and smelling), I wasn't really hungry. I didn't want to eat his food anyway. For two main reasons. I don't know where this stuff has been and for how long. And he didn't have a lot. Being the richest out of the four of us, I felt bad taking from the poorest. I felt _I_ should give him something.

I got up from my seat and picked up the piece of toast on the plate. By this time, it had cooled down and was now just a black brick of fried bread. I watched Kenny's frustrated face and tried to smile, "Hey, I like it this way, actually." I took a bite, letting the dirty bread fill my mouth. It almost tasted as dry and crappy as it did smell, but I stomached it and swallowed.

He shook his head and gave me a smile, "Cut it out."

---Education---

What is it about school that makes me _not_ want to go there? Maybe it's waking up extremely early for no apparent reason. It could be that they _make_ you go learn things you really could care less about. And there's always the people that just get on your _last_ nerve.

"Jew!"

Yeah, maybe that's it.

"Jew!"

I could live one day with out that.

"Hey, Jew!"

I could put it on my list of _Things I Absolutely Hate._

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey, Jew!"

I wonder if words can give you a coma if you get frustrated enough with the same ones. Over and over.

"Hey, Jew!"

And over.

"Jew! Jew? Jew. Jew! Hey, you! Jew!"

And over again…

I finally turn myself around. I knew _he_ was there, that had been the whole reason why I was ignoring him, but Cartman can't take the most _right in your face_ hint. That, and I forgot for a second that he's an over grown monster feeding off people's aggravation. How else could he get _that_ big. "What _is_ it!" My voice actually snapped in half right in mid-sentence. And I'm pretty sure I got attention to some of the kids around us.

"God, don't need to yell, Jew-boy. I'm right here," He hugged his thick arm around my neck and guided me away from the people who were staring. He sniffed twice and instantly let me go, "You go over to Kenny's? Because you smell like the wrong side--"

I cut him off right there because I knew where he was getting it, "of a dead animal's ass. Yeah, whatever." I heard him laughing uncontrollably, but that was just another mean joke headed both me and Kenny's way. The thing was he didn't actually _know_ I was there. And I couldn't help but crack a smile at that.

He gave me a weirded out look. He hates it when people are happy when he's happy, because he's only happy when he sees people miserable. "What the hell's up with you? I just said you smelled like Kenny!" He was expecting me to cry my Jew tears all over my shirt and the floor. Not likely.

I felt happy, but by the time I tried to let a laugh out, I couldn't. I only thought about how unfair it was. Cartman. Why does he get what he wants? Why do I feel God loves him more than every person, human being, on this Earth? How does he get away with so much? He's the worst person alive and yet, God gives him everything he wants. Down to the shit no one needs. Maybe God got replaced with an amateur angel. I think that everyday.

I close my eyes, I fall asleep.\

I open my eyes, I wake up.

Cartman was on the ground. Bruised. Bleeding. Pissed and scared at the same time. He looked hurt.

I was kneeling over him, wondering what happened. My eyes close to my fists and see the bleed. It wasn't mine. Was this my fault? I didn't see it happen. I was as pissed and scared as him. I didn't mean it, "I'm s-" My arms were pulled back right in the middle of my apology.

Some random, 'concerned' teacher took me away. I could have walked myself. But they didn't trust me. They trusted Cartman. They left him alone. I officially don't understand the world.

---Punishment---

I hid my face in my hands. My mom's screams were enough for me. I hate it. I hate when my mom yells. It scares me more than anything. Only my mom. Anyone else yells at me, I'd get in their face. But when mom is pissed, I'm scared as fuck.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you!?"

"Is this a good example for your brother!?"

"You're an embarrassment!"

"You use to be such a good boy!"

She didn't care about me. She didn't care about what I thought. She didn't want to hear my side of the story. She cared about how I was making her look. And right now, I wasn't making her look good. What makes it worse, she knows exactly what to say. She knows all the little things that just get under your skin. I swear. I don't want to sound like a breathing pussy, but she knows what to say to make you cry.

And that's what I did. I got out of school with a couple weeks worth a suspension. I didn't care that much. I was glad I kicked Cartman's Strawberry gelatin ass. He deserved it. I wish I knew how it happened, though. Give me a lie detector test right now, and I bet I'd pass. The word "failure" gets me. It hurts a perfect heart. I don't want to be perfect, but I can't help but be that one thing. Everyone expects it. Now, even I do. It's a never ending cycle thing.

---Heaven---

The place you could find me was on top of Kenny's roof. I snuck there. Used the extra bricks and climbed up to the window and the window to the roof. I half expected to find his PSP there, but I was wrong. I cried. I cried. Then, felt peace.

---$$$---

The crying stopped. The hurting healed. I crawled into his bedroom window. I knew it was his because there was an extra parka on the bed. I almost fell on my face as my whole body crept through the window. Like is whole house, it had the stale scent of cigarettes and the corners of the walls were stained nicotine yellow. I picked up the hoodie, filthy.

I stumbled across the floor on an old coffee can. "Whomp." Fell over. I went to pick it up, but stopped. Green paper. Could Kenny possibly have money? More than just a couple of dollars. I couldn't tell if it was a piggy bank, or a savings account.

Twenties.

Hundreds.

Kenny was loaded! I shoved the money back inside and put it back over to the corner of the floor and backed away like it was some kind of disease. Poor and money, don't go together. Where did he get it from?

"Like it?" He was referring to his room. To tell the truth, no I didn't. His fingers searched my shoulders. I hadn't heard him come in.

The blank worksheets on his desk reminded me of school. I had that instinct feeling to go to school tomorrow, even when I knew I was suspended.

"Where will you be in life, Kyle!?" Mom echoed through my ears. Her voice just throbbing at the drums in my ears. So clear, so transparent she might as well have been in this room.

He gave me his smile and rubbed at my shoulder blades, "I know it's a mess, but I didn't think ya would be that 'fraid of it." He walked around to fix a couple things. Pick up a few clothes, "Somethin' happen?" Was he out of the loop, or was he playing stupid? I'm surprised cartman didn't get to him first. Never mind. Scratch that. Cartman probably went home and is now shoving every cheesy poof he can possible fit in his fat face.

"No," I lied, obviously. My only defense. If I started talking about it, I'd feel my stomach turn sour and my blood boil into my tears. I hold this stuff in because I'm a civilized person. I'm a perfect human being. What would everyone else think? Couldn't these emotion evaporate silently from me?

"If ya don't wanna tell me right now, I won't force it," Lucky guess, "But be careful 'bout holdin' that shit in."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"I have b'fore. You might do somethin' you regret later," his ragged hand came up to fist at his chest, "That shit hurts. Hurts a whole lot." I guess, he would know. He had been hiding behind that hood for tears. I heard he finally snapped, or something. No idea who said what, but it pissed him off pretty bad. I didn't get all the details, mostly because I didn't really care. I never thought I should have.

The only person I really 'cared' about was Stan. We were best friends. Best friends 'til the end. Could this be the end?

"You still worried 'bout Cartman?" He asked.

"Enough…!" I started, almost biting his head off, before catching myself, "…about him."

"Take that as a yeah," He gave me an impatient look, "What've I told ya. Ignore him."

I took a few seconds to shake my head. I thought about it. He was going to find out sooner or later. It might as well be from me, now, so he won't get the wrong idea, "I don't know what happened?"

"What do ya mean?" Lost again.

"I beat him up pretty bad today," before he could get another word in, I started up again, "I didn't mean it. I really didn't. It just… Happened." It literally did. No lie. I didn't want Kenny to hate me too. I didn't have much else left after that. Unless, I bent over backwards for Stan again.

He lit up another cig and took a heavy breath in, "Blind fury." He managed to choke out from the dusted, gray smoke fluttered from his throat and danced into the air, until… nothing.

"Maybe," I found myself sitting on the bed, wanting this conversation to disintegrate like the smoke. I only knew it would only be adding to the piled stains on his walls. Just like the piles of thoughts and memories from it. Sticking to the back of my mind, thick and horrible as the nicotine itself.

"Happens," He took a seat next to me, arm laced around my neck, just as the green lining of my coat collar did. "Can't give up though," He sucked in more chemicals from the stick, trying to blow it out and way from my face (Which missed horribly, by the way). Neck and head turning my way, he asked, "All that shit hurt?"

"Sometimes," I felt like grabbing my knees and cradling myself, but I would not act like a small child in front of him. I have some sort of pride left in me. Enough to know, it did hurt, but I had no solution for this, but to ignore the annoying mental breakdowns that eat away at my temples.

He pointed to me, as if he were talking with it. Not a word came from his mouth yet. He picked himself up and slowly let his arm untangle from my shoulders. "I can fix that," He shuffled through his drawers. He stopped though, "But it only numbs it, don't make it go away."

I watch him like he was crazy, "Numbing? What are you talking about, Kenny?" How could he find a cure for this? Perfectionism? It's not a disease that can be treated. Life, now that's the disease. Could he possible give me a prescription to numb this life away?

"Can't tell you what it is," He grabbed what he was searching for from the desk, and closed it. "That's the first rule," He pointed up one finger. "Second, you can't tell no one I gave it to ya," A second finger. "Third, no askin' where I got it from," Three. "And last, no givin' it to no one else," Last. He walked my way now, kneeling so our faces met, "Promise."

I carefully nodded. Up. Down. Up. How could he possibly make this better?

…

I had no time to think before he placed a colorful capsule between my lips and kissed me. His lips shined as he whispered me a "Goodnight."

…

Silent.

But my heart started to beat. It's what I could hear all around me. Slow, steady, as if time itself slowed down. Drumming slow. Musically. Hearing the soothing blood rush through my vessels. Lubb-Dubb. Hearing the walls of my heart slam closed, pumping through my body. I felt reborn somehow.

My eyes opened, only to find a beautiful wonderland. Colors beyond belief. So many. Bright, so alive and vivid. So personal, unique. Everything was such an amazing thing to see. It was like seeing through a different light. Different eyes. A different focus of ultra violet colors I could feel. I could even taste.

I was happy. So happy I could hardly control myself. Laughing was the only thing I could do. If I didn't, I might have exploded. Which wouldn't have bothered me since I was in a center of calming tranquility. No one could touch me, but I could touch everything. I could see everything. I could hear everything. I _was_ everything.

What was this strange feeling? How could everything bring me up so high? So high I was in love with everything in plain sight. I didn't mind being so perfect at this point. I was just perfect like everything else. I could spin and dance. Fall and still feel happiness. Fall until I was in a state of rest, where now bright colors twisted through the dark shadows of my unconscious mind.

Life was good…


	3. Clean: Three

Note: I had fun doing the (r)'s 

---

Clean: Three

Sprinkling Rain, To Throbbing Pain.

---Start---

The beating in my ears gave me a slight sign that my conscious mind was coming closer. The smooth music pumping threw my brain, feeling the calm rocks back and forth. Motions similar to the notes playing inside me. The only thing that seemed so far away was his voice. No, not God's, but Kenny's.

Kenny's. It almost sounded like his hood was still on. And it was the strangest thing. …I suddenly knew why he always wore his hood, as if he told me. As if he had narrated his story for me. I didn't know before, but my memory forced it on me.

"God, where ta begin, Kyle. Sorta sick of tellin' this good fer nothin' story, and it's the first time sayin' it. Let's just say I've gone through Hell, visited Heaven and came back jus' in time to make it fer the bus. Prolly take this as a joke anyway.

"Sick a my parents. Always use at get under my skin that they fought so much. Always blocked it out with force. Always locked my door. Sometimes just sit on my porch 'n stare. But they hated me. I always knew they did. Always. I'm their biggest problem. I cost most of the money. And they fight over money. Always thought somethin' was wrong with me, ya know?

"Never heard the sayin' 'A face only a mother can love'? Well, what if a mom _and _a dad can't even love the face of their son. Fucks ya up pretty bad, dude. Tried ta look at myself. Couldn't, dude. Don't wanna admit it, but I use ta hate this face. 'N why bother other people with it too, huh?

"Dunno if ya noticed 'r not, but I was outta school for 'while. Ya know, when you guys gotta lil' closer ta Butters? I don't expect ya ta remember. So long ago.

"'Fraid to say what's next, but uh… I kinda got inta a fight with my parents. They hated me. My mom hated me. My dad. My brother. Me. Wanted to do 'em all a favor, dude. Kinda. Ya know? Uh… Tried. Let's call it, 'gettin' rid of my face.'

"Well, after. Lights. Pure bright lights everywhere, dude. And, I know it's retarded, but God kinda, ya know, spoke ta me. Didn't do it with words, 'r nothin.' But did it with a feelin.' Then, woke up in the hospital. Dude, my family 'round me. Huggin' me. It kinda felt like they loved me. I realized, it ain't my face they hated. Their fightin' had nothin' ta do with me. They still loved me, even if it don't seem like it."

Those words, soaking through my memory like a bad dream. When did he tell me this? I heard his faded voice clearer now. I actually knew what he was saying now.

"It's okay… Everythin's alright."

My eyes took slow steps in opening, almost like a escalator. You know, those moving steps you end up walking up anyway? Slow, slow, slow. I only felt warmth around me, as my vision settled on faded orange. I was with Kenny once again. "Yeah," I agreed through scratched vocal chords, sending him a message that I was, in fact, alive.

Suffering's a bitch.

---High Noon---

He told me about yesterday. Yes, I did pass out. Yes, I was fucked up. And yes, I still don't know what the fuck I took. All I know is that I must have told him stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff I don't even know. Long story short, I freaked out halfway through.

"Haven't eaten in three days," Ken announced, slipping a Twix® bar into his coat pocket while waving 'Hello' to the front counter clerk. His heavenly innocence was amazing cool as his steal went unnoticed.

He even made the employee smile and wave back, as she was helping yet another customer who was in line. Someone who was actually paying for their products. What a nice lady. A nice middle aged woman at her dead-end job. She'll be there until the day she dies, probably. Paying money for the bills her husband just can't afford. While people, like me, have one dad who can support a family of four, plus more.

He nudged me and whispered, "Want anythin'?" His hand was like a snake, ready to grab anything. Any Thing. All I had to do was open my mouth and name it.

I shook my head, feeling guilty enough for letting him steal something for himself. "No, dude. It just isn't right," I managed to whisper back, not wanting to draw the counter lady's attention.

"You ain't even Christian," He circled me once and headed for the door. He motioned his head towards the exit in a, 'Come on.' He left without my answer, assuming I'd follow behind.

Which I did.

I almost jumped out the door as the lady gave me a, "Have a nice day!" Perky lips, in a perky smile.

I could only just wave and give her a half-hearted smile. My face that ended up looking like I just swallowed a bug. I escaped outside and sat next to Kenny, who's ass was now parked on the side of the sidewalk.

A cigarette was already lit as he wrestled with the gold wrapper, where he ended up opening it with his fingers pinched and him tearing it along the middle. "Yer a big puss," He muffled out as he tried to balance the stick between his crusted lips. Being successful at that, he blew the remaining smoke from his lungs to my face.

"Shut it…" I choked out, fanning the littered air as far away as I could get it. He's sick, disgusting, and dirty. But why did that seem so cool? I almost admired his almost grey aura he presented everywhere.

"Tell me," He started, leveling out one of the candy sticks and holding it between two fingers, "Why haven't you 'n Stan hit it off yet?" He replaced his cigarette with the candy, almost not wanting to at first. I'd bet any money he'd choose his one way ticket to cancer over the food if he was given a specific choice.

Hardly paying attention to the ridiculous question, I gave him a "What?" so he could repeat it. His voice had turned into a big blur of sounds while I was concentrating on the odd way he carried himself. On a 'normal' day I should add.

He gave a silent laugh through his nose as he chewed the chocolate between his decaying teeth. He swallowed and placed his stick back into his mouth. He pulled at my hat and eventually did a tug-o-war and won to get it. He played with the big green flaps that usually covered my ears, "Sometimes I wonder if ya can even hear with this thin' on."

His fit of laughter stopped as I snuck my hand passed him and grabbed my hat back. My cheeks burned of anger and embarrassment, that it probably matched my curly mess of hair. I shoved it back on my head, looking around if anyone saw it. It was a secret or something, that everyone knew. Hated my hair more than anything. And if I cut it off… let's just say I'd be grounded in my room for another century. Wait, wasn't I grounded now? What fucking day was it?

"Chill," He patted down on my head, "Didn't mean nothin' by it." He coughed out a few more laughs.

My spine stood straight up as I felt a vibration in my pants. I know exactly what you're thinking. I almost thought the same thing until…

"Dude, yer pants are ringing," Kenny almost spit out his cigarette this time.

I actually brought my cell with. Seriously, I'd loose my head if it weren't attached to my body. I forget a lot. The only thing I don't seem to forget are answers to my tests, but let's not go there.

"Hello?" I asked confused, hearing myself echo into my ear from the crappy reception. God? Could I be talking to myself? I didn't even look to see who it was. Oh God, was it mom?

"Dude?" Defiantly not mom.

"Stan?" I asked. Why I asked, I have no idea? Who else calls me straight up 'dude' besides Kenny, but he was sitting next to me at this exact moment.

For some strange reason Kenny was making fish lips as me, and wet smacking noises. I seriously wanted to know what he asked me a couple seconds ago now. Did that douche call me gay??

Before I had a chance to respond to Kenny, Stan picked up the conversation, "Yeah, me." He said, almost as if he was ashamed at being, you know, himself.

"What's up?" I asked, leaning back into a comfortable position on the sidewalk. I didn't know where this was going at. Really, I didn't.

"I just wanted to say sorry," He left his sentence hanging for a second, and added his usual 'I totally forgot what the hell I was about to say line,' "…And stuff." He breathed into the phone, obviously frustrated with something.

"No, it's cool," I totally forgot what we were fighting about anyway. What the Hell was it. "Um… Something wrong?" I asked now. What the Hell were we fighting about?

"Huh?" He questioned, as if I took him by surprise, "Oh… no." He ended with another breath, the key thing telling me he was lying.

Kenny was currently in the background of my vision, with his back toward me, hugging his arms around his thin shoulders, pretending to make out with himself. It was pretty good too. His had small girl-like fingers, and it actually looked like he was swapping spit with some chick. I'd be impressed, if the joke wasn't aimed at me.

I shook my head at him and simply gave him the finger before talking to Stan again, "Dude, just tell me. I know when something's bothering you." My eyes stabbed at Kenny now, obviously not stopping his joke. My shoe rested on his back and made him bend forward. He wasn't kissing himself any more.

"She dumped me…" That's the sentence that made everything grow cold. If everything around me could loose anymore color, it did now. My surroundings were dark. I almost thought I was wearing sunglasses at first.

"What?" I asked, almost having lost my voice. Everything was so dry? Everything was cold? I didn't even see Kenny anymore. "What happened, dude?"

He sniffed, easy for me to know he was crying about this. His stupid girl obsession finally kicked him in the face. No wonder he forgave me so quickly (On what, I still have no idea). Wendy was clear gone out of his life, I guess. He sobbed and gave me a laugh, "Dude, you want me to tell you exactly what she said?" Him and I both knew I wanted to know exactly what she said. "She said," He stopped, almost embarrassed. There was crumbling paper, probably a note she sent him. God, he was going to read it to me.

"Dear Stan,

I'm sorry. So sorry. But I can't keep doing this. A long distance relationship isn't cutting it for me. I couldn't answer your phone calls for these last couple days because I was so guilty. I found someone else. He makes me happy, like the way you use to make me feel. This has nothing to do with you. So, please don't think it does. It's just the situation. Please, forgive me. But if not, I understand. I still love you tons.

Signed and sincerely love,

Wendy."

He started crying through the phone. I could almost picture him sitting in the corner of his room, clutching the phone with this stupid emotional pain. For a friend, I know him better than anyone. He's weak. He wears that big, honest heart on his sleeve. And anyone can break it because that's just how he is.

And this is my best friend.

"Hey," I started, swallowing the cold, dry spot in my throat, "I-I'll be over in a second, 'kay?" I just wish I was there right now. I hugged my legs as if I were hugging my friend. This was the first and only time I would act improper around public.

"'Kay." He agreed back and hung the phone up. Which left me with a loud buzzing sound in my ear.

I just sat there listening to the phone, as if he were still there. I even whispered another "Kay" which repeated into my own ear. I was talking to myself on my cell, wondering how fast my legs could move when I'm in a rush. I stood up and looked at the road, that looked twice as far as it should look.

Kenny wasn't joking around anymore. He just gave me a weird look and wondered what I was staring at so intently (I was wondering that myself). "What's up?" He spoke up and stood with me, trying to concentrate on what even I was.

I gave him a guilty look, "I need to go to Stan." I nodded my head for no apparent reason, but to just nod. I guess, I was just trying to organize everything in my brain well enough before I actually _do _anything about it. "You coming?" I asked, I should be polite at least. I was kind of blowing him off. I mean, he gave me a place to stay. Wasn't much, but I took it.

He kind of just laughed like 'Are you kidding.' "Have ya seen yerself run? I couldn't catch up fer a damn," He gave my shoulder a pat, "Nah, you go ta Stan. He needs ya." He shook his head, "Not me."

I nodded once again, like an OCD thing. I must nod when I'm in a rush. Maybe it's a 'Yeah, yeah. I'm pretending to pay attention to what you're saying, but I seriously can't stay and talk right now.' I was about to start off into a sprint until I heard Kenny again.

"Catch," without warning he threw his PSP® at me.

Ironically, I caught it. I stood there almost amazed at myself. I've never played sports before, because they sucked. And because of Cartman. Gay.

Kenny gave me a quick wink, "Who said Jews couldn't play baseball." I saw him disappear into the store again, probably going 'shopping.'

I just stood there stunned with the PSP. Looking at it like it was God or something. Fuck… I could have proven Cartman wrong instead of smacking him with a bat. I nodded for the seventeenth time and shoved the idem in my pocket.

I ran.

Fast.

---Memory---

I let myself into Stan's house. His parents were a lot less, what's the word? Freakishly over controlling? Yeah. I mean, that was my second house anyway. They're use to it. I didn't go there first, maybe because of this 'fight.'

They just greeted me, like they had no idea. No emergency. No hurry. A couple "How are you?" "How is your mom?" and one "Stanley's in his room."

Let's see. I'm not fine. I'm scared shitless. I have no idea how my mom is because I haven't seen her in awhile. And I know Stan's upstairs in his room, crying his fucking eyes out. But, despite all that, I nodded once more and gave them a pleasant, "Thank you" as if nothing was wrong right back. My legs climbed up the stairs faster than I could imagine and I was outside his room in seconds. Trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible.

Just like I pictured. His room was dark with the shades closed. He was huddled in the corner with his cell on his cheek that was stained with tears. Whether or not he was over reacting, I just didn't have the heart to leave him there. Like that.

I walked halfway in the room before he even noticed my existence. "Stan," I whispered, _still _fucking _nodding! _I couldn't say much. I would have said sorry, but it wasn't my fault, and words weren't going to make this any better.

Before I could make another step, he ran over to me and almost knocked me over. He used my shirt as a tissue and held onto me as if his life depended on it. He hiccupped his sobs and repeated to me, "I loved her. I loved her. I loved her, dude. I loved h-her." If words could cause misery, those are the ones that would do it. Repeating the truth, can kill sometimes.

Mildly dramatic, or over dramatic. It didn't matter either way to me now.

I finally remembered what the Hell we had been fighting about.

This.

"I'm sorry," This sorry wasn't for Wendy, it was for my mistake. I let my hand rest on the back of his head , and pushed him closer, showing that I didn't mind what the fuck he did to my shirt. I used my other arm to hold him close, trying to make sure he was safe from this stupid mess. I let my head fall on his shoulder, trying everything to hold back my own tears, so I could be strong for him.

This is me.

And this is my best friend.

---Erase---

"I like to weave passed the crossroads of no return."

Whatever the Hell that meant, but it was coming from Stan's mouth, and his words were important to me right now.

My back was pushed against the only logical exit of the room, and my best friend was in between my legs. Stan's room is just like him sometimes. Dark and cold. This is because of Wendy. This is what happens when you share everything to someone… and then they take it without warning. You're left with nothing. Nothing, but your mistake. But since he didn't share his friends with Wendy, he did have something left.

A friend.

I almost ditched him.

A friend.

Not a good friend.

But a friend.

What if he didn't come to me for help? What then? Thank God he isn't s stubborn as me.

My eyes hid in his shoulder, physically and mentally wiped out. From what? Fuck, who knows? Somehow I feel more depressed than I usually do. But if Stan feels better, then so do I. All I can do now is just sit here and listen to him rant on and on, while he messes with my red mess of curls.

His fingers twist around and around my matted locks as his mouth keeps moving.

Then, I hear something that makes every muscle in my face contract. Hard.

"I love you."

I wrinkled my face together as it still hid in his shoulder. I mumbled a "huh?"

He twisted around so my head had nowhere to lay, but it didn't really matter since his hands were now glued to my cheeks. He gave a bright smile, way too jolly for the state he was in a couple minutes ago. "I figured it out, dude!" He announced, over joyed, "Dude, I finally get why I can never make it with Wendy!"

One of my brows cocked up, wondering what he was getting at, but I sure enough clued him in. "Yeah, because she's not worth your time. We already went over this. She uses guys for shit, and since you're not giving her shit anymore. Well, you put it together," I lifted my own head now and pulled his hands away.

He shook his head side to side, having his perfectly straight, jet-black hair sway with it. "No, dude! That's not it at all," His happiness was starting to creep me out now. "Dude, I'm gay! I have to be! I can't make it with Wendy. I can't make it with girls, dude!" His childish laughter gave me the chills.

"Hm?" My eyes widened, almost out of their sockets. Then, it hit me. Kenny's behavior. I shook my head for a change, "No. No, Stan. You are not Gay. You like girls. I have no idea what Kenny told you, but you're straight. Straight as a board." This was like teaching a one-year-old how to do Pre-Algebra/Trig.

"No, you're wrong," Or telling a drunken person that they can't drive, "I'm totally gay. It makes so much sense, and I just realized everything!" I threw his arms up, celebrating. "You're the only one I trust, right?" I didn't respond. "I'm the only one you trust, right?" Again, silent. "You're always with me in my time of need, right?" …

"No! Fuck no!" I stood up now, freaked out more than ever, "No, no! No, no, no!" I screamed, waving a finger at his face, "Oh, Hell no, Stan! Don't pull this shit on me right now." I whined with exhaustion, as I held my head with both hands. I couldn't deal with this right now. I've had enough I had to worry about than my friend's sexuality. To make it worse, him having a crush on me. I gave him a thumbs up now, trying to be supportive, but not getting too close to him, "That's great, dude. You know what? Awesome. I'm so glad you came out of the closet, but uh… dude, I'm straight. Meaning: I like girls. So, I couldn't possibly like you. Well, I like you as a friend, you know? But not as a---" I cleared my throat from an absence of words, as if I were trying to choke out something that would make this work at all, "You know, boyfriend. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," all the joy in his face faded. Almost killed me, "Yeah, you're rejecting me… Just like… Wendy…" Oh fuck. He was going to cry on me again.

"No, no! That's not what I'm saying!" Placed my hand on his shoulder, then quickly pulled it away, remembering what was going on.

His smile returned now, "So, you _will_ go out with me?" This was not easy at all. How the hell was I suppose to get him to understand without making him depressed again. God, how I wish we were still 'fighting.'

I have every answer in the world, but I can't figure this one out.

…

…

Then, I solved my own problem. For a little while at least. What if I make him think we _are_ going out. He'll be happy, and since I don't have school for awhile it'll give me enough time to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do.

That idea is horrible. Yes. But I seriously don't have a better solution this second.

"You know what Stan. Yes, I will go out with you," my hand reached to the back of my neck as I tried to pull something out of my ass, "But you have to promise me two things. You have to keep quiet about this because I don't want Cartman finding out yet." Nod, nod, nodding. So far so good, "And we have to go slow, okay? Stuff like this takes time." I gave him a smile. I'm the worst liar I know, "If we want this relationship to work, we have to start out slow. It's very special. I do not want it ruined because of some reckless actions, okay?" I had to put both hands behind my back because they were shaking. I couldn't believe I was actually agreeing to this.

Apparently, him either. He gave my neck a hug and kissed my cheek. I thought I was going to be sick. It was totally screwed up. "I knew you loved me too!"

I backed up, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What did I just get done saying, dude!?" I whispered harshly. Two fingers stuck up, "Keep it secret _and _take it slow!" I let my arms hang loosely from my shoulders, "Start with holding hands, 'kay?" I nodded once more, hopefully the last in front of him today, "I'll see you tomorrow. Alright? I need to, uh…" Excuse. Excuse. Excuse? I usually have a hand full in my head just in case, "Clean my room." Simple. Predictable. Believable. "You know how my mom gets," I gave him a shrug, "Sorry, dude. You're lucky I even got here. Hope I'm not grounded." I felt like I was gagging on lies. Lies piled on lies upon lies. I've never lied to Stan in my life. _Ever!_ Why start now?

_Shrug, 'He just isn't Stan in my eyes anymore.'_

---Just In Time---

I made it to Kenny's and the sun was already setting. I felt so tired. That and out of it. I couldn't concentrate for a shit. My head was pounding. I just felt so frustrated and angry. I wanted bed and I didn't want home. Hopefully he'd let me crash at his for at least one more night. Or maybe until mom calls me. I'm surprised she hasn't yet.

I came in the front door because the trailer wasn't shaking. That meant his parents: A.) Weren't home -or- B.) Asleep. I grabbed my stomach. I just remembered I didn't eat all fucking day. I _should_ go shopping for Kenny sometimes. Or at least until I stay here. But I noticed a new loaf of bread on the counter. He _did_ go 'shopping' because it wasn't there before. I stuck the bread in the toaster and opened his fridge. It looked like a graveyard. There was no point in even opening it. I forgot Kenny's parents didn't buy high class condiments for their food.

Toast for dinner it was.

It popped up and I eagerly took a bite, even if it was black and hot as hell. I couldn't help, but think, "Cartman would die if he lived in this house." With that said, I sat my ass down on a chair that almost toppled over. "'Kay…" I took a seat on the floor. I was so pissed off. I kicked the chair over. No one was sitting on the fucker anytime soon. No one would miss it.

I heard Kenny come out of his room, but when he appeared a girl was with him. He was awfully close to her too. How the hell does Kenny get chicks and I get stuck with my best friend? Oh yeah, I forgot. I'm a good for nothing Jew. Burn me alive like this nasty ass toast.

"See ya later, babe," He kissed her mouth and led her out his door. He gave off a greedy smile as he took out a couple twenties from his pocket.

And this is Kenny's job. Should have saw it from a mile away.

"So, that's how you get cash," I took another crunching bite off the burnt ass toast. I just sat there, I didn't feel like moving. Fuck it. What would be the point?

"Oh, Kyle!" He looked a little shocked and put his earnings back in his pocket, "Didn't see ya on the floor there." His innocence didn't phase me anymore. I knew exactly what he was. A prostitute. "So, uh… How's Stan?"

I ate the rest of my 'dinner' and made sure it was the loudest sound I could make. "Gay," I spoke, so close from snapping. I don't know why either. I'm just so pissed right now. It felt like nothing else could go wrong.

"Gay?" He questioned, "As in, ya know, happy?" He shrugged, obviously missing the point on purpose, "'Cause if that's it. Grea-"

I stopped him there and stood up. I grabbed him by the coat and immediately blamed him for this mess. Who the hell was I? "Fuck, Kenny! What the hell did you tell him!? I know you had something to do with this!! You told him something, didn't you," I shook him, "Didn't you?!" Why was I shaking him?

He grabbed my wrists defensively, "Wh-whoa! Kyle! St-stop! Alright? I can totally explain!" Was I that much of a threat? His eyes were marked scared al over them. How could I hurt that?

I let him go.

He ran his fingers through his sweated hair and lit a cigarette. He took the first hit and put the end in my mouth. "Take a deep breath," He ordered, as if this would help me. "Yer gunna have ta calm down fer me."

I watched the grey fumes linger from the stick, wishing that was my frustration floating away. I closed my eyes and sucked in, as if I were drinking out of a straw. The only difference was it tasted worse. It seriously tasted like I was licking the ground and breathing in polluted air. Maybe that's what I was doing. That thought made me laugh, but instead choked out a big cloud of smoke. It was fucking horrible!! …but it felt good in some weird way.

"Okay," He lead me down to the ground again. Or maybe I was loosing my balance and he was helping me stay on my feet. Either way, we ended up on the floor. "Alright, I'll explain everythin'." He shrugged, "I dunno? I just… told him you two made a good couple. That's all." I guess, there wasn't as much to explain as he thought.

I'm sick of excuses for a day. I turned my head to him and put my finger to his lips. Voices were getting annoying today. Maybe tomorrow will be better. But first, I'll have to get rid of today. "Do you have anymore pills, dude?" Now, that felt good. That's what I wanted. I think that's what I need after the conversation between Stan and me.

"Another one?" He asked, like I retarded or something. Once he saw my face, he just nodded and raced to his room. He wasted no time.

I reached into my pocket. A cell and a PSP. I checked my cell. 'No missed calls.' Mom didn't call me yet? Maybe I'd stop in for a visit tomorrow. Maybe something happened. Or maybe she doesn't really give a shit. Either way, whatever. I hooked the headphones up to the PSP and shoved them into my ears and turned it on. I closed my eyes. I wanted to drowned in the music. I wanted to get lost and never found.

The second I felt Ken's lips hit mine, I knew I had downed the pill. I never questioned the kiss. It was just a reflex that triggered your throat to swallow. Once it's down, it doesn't come back up. I already figured out why he never gave me water. I turned on the faucet.

Nothing came out.

I finally got my wish. The music turned into millions of colors and it held onto me. It took me away from this place I like to call Earth.

So beautiful life can be… Through the right set of eyes.

---Treasure---

You'd think normal people wake up to birds chirping out their windows. I woke up to rats nibbling at my fucking toes. I even had to kick the fucker off the bed for him to stop. How many days have I been at Kenny's. It felt like forever. I felt dirty as hell. I decided I was going home today.

It was unexpectedly warm today, when I woke up. Almost hot. I woke up on the usual squeaking mattress and wrapped around the thin covers. Kenny's body was warm against mine. It wasn't until then I noticed I didn't have a shirt on, and the stupid blonde never wears anything but tighty-whities to sleep. I didn't really think twice about the situation anyway. If something _did_ happen, which I would never let happen, my pants would have been long gone.

I dragged myself out of bed without waking the other up. He must have been out like a rock. Guess I wasn't the only one who had a long day.

My eyes searched his desk. The one where he holds the pills. As I quietly walk closer, my vision is stuck on him. I slowly opened the drawer and looked inside. There they were. The little colorful capsules. My one way ticket out of my life. Well, for a couple hours. Until it wears off. I grabbed a couple and dropped them in my pocket. Another OCD thing I did right then. I looked in my pocket three times to make sure I had them before searching for my shirt. And what do you know? Right where I left in. In the middle of the floor, as three mice camp out inside it. I kicked it and the rats went squeaking away. I picked it up and put it on, and slipped my coat over it.

I left.

---Wash Away---

When I got home, there were no cars. No dad. Meaning, no mom either. Just incase, I creaked open the door, but still no one. I breathed, and smiled as I walked in casually.

I did have second thoughts about Stan's house to clean up at, but think about it. The guy who has a crush on you, and you're taking a shower in his house. It gives me the chills thinking about how we shared the same bed at our sleepovers. If I would have known any better, I would have taken the floor.

I climbed up the stairs, only to find my brother at the top of them. "Shit," I cursed under my breath. I gave him a wave and tried to put on a polite show, but he knows all my bullshit already, there was no point in trying to act. "Mom's gone, right?"

He nodded once, "Right." Copy, paste. A child sitting at the top of the steps. By himself. In a house. Reminded me of the Shining® or something. My brother is creepy I'll admit. Not gay creepy like Stan. But haunted house creepy. Dark, beady eyes. Couldn't tell what color they were. And his mouth didn't exactly seem to have an end, but I guess, I'm over exaggerating a few details.

"I'm taking a quick shower. If the doorbell rings, answer it," I felt as skuzzy as I probably was. I felt like I had been rolling in a pile of dirt for the last couple days. Maybe I have been. My hair's going to be a pain to mess with.

I made my way to the bathroom and locked the door. I've seen the Chucky® horror movies. If my brother was anything, it was that. Cartman's more of a Freddy Krueger® if he gained fifty or a hundred pounds. They both scared the crap out of me, either way. I would not want to find either in a dark alley at night.

I watched myself in the mirror. I couldn't understand. It felt like I got plenty of sleep, but my eyes had big black marks under them. And my face is paler than usual. I know I'm one of the whitest kids in town, this was ridiculous. I ignored it for now and lifted my shirt up, over my head. I began unbuttoning my pants when I felt my neck was sore. I rubbed at it and looked at the mirror again.

Red marks.

I took a closer look. It almost looked like a rash. …Or a bruise. But it wasn't in one spot. They were a bunch all over my neck. Some even on my chest. Was I breaking out into some kind of rash. Or a skin disease? Is Kenny's house that dirty? I hope it's not from fucking bugs digging into my skin and laying eggs and shit.

That idea scared the crap out of me. I reached into my pocket and flipped open my phone. My skin started to crawl from all the idea of what these mysterious marks were.

Kenny's number on speed dial.

...brrring…

…brrring…

It was two seconds too long.

…brrrr--- "'Low?" He either turned the phone on in the middle of saying 'Hello' or he was just too lazy to say the whole thing.

"Dude," I said scared, scratching at the marks on my neck. I didn't know how many I had so it looked like it was spreading or something.

It sounded like he just sat up from laying down, "Kyle?" He questioned, still half asleep. He probably expected me to be sleeping next to him, "Where are ya…?" Better question, "You okay? You sound a little---"

"Paranoid? Yes!" Everywhere itched. Was I being attacked by fucking bugs or something. Maybe it's from those damn rats, "Dude! I-I think… God… I think… Dude, what if I die!?"

I could tell he was wide awake now, "Whoa. Take it easy." He breathed, "You have to calm down. What are you talking about?"

I wish I never left his house right now. I felt so fucking alone with a disease that's eating away at my body. "I-I-I-I-I…" I stopped, noticing the I's weren't getting me anywhere. "Marks on my neck, dude. Fucking red spots. Bruises and shit," I picked at it a little, shivering from the way my skin was crawling. I felt like I was getting eaten alive.

"Oh… is that it?" He laughed through the phone for a couple seconds, "You don't have a _disease_, dude."

"Then, what the hell is it!?!" I screamed at the phone. I wanted to know what was wrong with me. What was so damn funny?

"You act like you've never had a hickey b'fore," He choked out more laughter through his dry throat, "Shit. drugs musta fucked you up big time." I could hear him lay back down, "Now, get yer ass back here so ya don't make a scene."

"H-hickey?" I looked closer and noticed the bite marks. Those thing _were_ hickeys. Oh my Lord, that scared every living bone in my body. I almost had to laugh with him. "Oh my God… Thank-you." I was so relieved. You have no idea. I felt like a total ass, but at least I didn't feel like I was dying. "Um… Yeah. I'll drop by your place in a second. I uh… need to take a shower." I could hardly think straight, that's how relieved I was. Thank you. Thank you…

---Guess Who?---

I got dressed and felt so much better. So clean and refreshed. Not as dirty as hell anymore. Besides brushing my hair back to, well 'normal,' everything was pretty good right now. If not, I always had my escape. It was just a pocket reach away.

A horn from outside blared. It had to be Cartman. No one is that much of an ass to honk over and over and over again. I peeked my head through the window. I know it was my brother's ride. Just nosey is all. I wasn't going to forbid my brother from seeing the jerk even if I hated the bastard. I seriously could care less. As long as I was a good distance away.

The fat ass stood outside his car, radio louder than ever. He was tall enough to have his arm lean on the roof of his brand new, red, sparkling, whatever he likes to call it. I couldn't tell an Eclipse from a Sunfire. Cars just wasn't my thing. Especially since I didn't even have one yet. That is, not until my _behavior changes_.

I saw my brother running out the door, yelling over and over, "Cartman! Cartman! Cartman!" He tried to wrap his small arms around that flabby ass body (failed) and held onto his arm.

"Hey, little guy. Ready for some fun?" Cartman smiled bright as he gave my brother a little pat on the head.

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Ike bounced up and down, like he was the happiest kid around.

It was sad. How close and brotherly they act around each other. Sometimes I wish I had that. But, I guess, I scared my brother for life when I said I didn't want him as a brother. All because he was Canadian and I was too young to even except shit like that.

Can't you turn back time?

Then, I froze. Stood so still. Cartman's eyes moved up to me and sent me a devilish smirk. One that gave me a horrible feeling. I still believed he was going to kill me. When I see him, I know for a fact. He wants to ruin my life. He wants me gone.

I shied away from the window and hugged my shoulders. Where's Kenny when you need him?

---Spaz---

I finally managed to walk out of my house once Cartman left. It felt like a scary movie everywhere I turned. I felt like things were going to pop out at me. You know, random shit. Like puppies with their guts dragging along the sidewalk, multi-colored poisonous snakes, and white skinned zombies with dark black hair covering their face. I thought I was loosing my mind, but I realized my mind was already lost. I kind of took a pill before I walked out the door. I saw Cartman and panicked. I hated that son of a bitch and just popped a pill. I thought it would make this go away, but I was full aware what was going on, but so out of it I had no idea.

God, this was the stupidest idea ever. By a long shot.

Once I got to Kenny's, he opened the door and I fell inside. I was pulling the poisoned snakes off my legs and screaming bloody murder at the ghost girls following me.

"Don't show me the faces!! I don't want to see her face!!"

"Fucking snakes!! Get off! Get off, you bastards!!"

This would be called a trip. A bad one.

---Kisses---

There was nothing he could do for me, but wait. Pretty much just hold me down as I wear myself out.

I could finally breath again. My eyes saw a dulled world again. I was looking up at Kenny, who was looking down at me. He had me pinned on the bed and I couldn't move worth shit.

I swallowed, "Is it over?" I couldn't see anything. My eyes wondered around, but there was nothing.

Kenny gave me a nod, "Y-yeah. I think so." His voice was so quiet compared to anything he's ever said before. He slowly loosened his grip on me, just to see what I would do. Then, got off me completely. He panted out another nervous sentence, "I don't think ya should take that shit alone."

I swallowed again and agreed with him. I covered my mouth, remembering all that stuff. I couldn't believe it wasn't real. "Th-that was horrible, dude. That wasn't cool at all," Everything came from my mind. Nothing was after me.

"Kyle," Kenny looked up at me and pulled me into a hug, "Everythin's alright." He rubbed my back a little and whispered so much more. "Dude, I shouldn't of given you that shit. Sorry. And those hickeys…" He started, thinking 'what the hell' and finished, "I gave 'em to ya. Didn't mean it. I, ya know, kissed ya to force the pill down. 'N you kissed back. 'N I did too. 'N thin's went from there."

I just listened. It wasn't his fault. For a weird reason, having Kenny kiss me wasn't as bad as thinking about your best friend doing it. "Did we do anything else?" I forced, hoping not.

He shook his head, "Nah. Just feelin' 'n kissin'. Nothin' else." He took me in closer, "I ain't got lots a friends. 'N I felt alone. Kinda got separated from ya guys 'while back. Ya try shit, 'n ya can't stop, dude. Ya jus'…" He stopped, resting his cheek to mine, "Ya felt the same way I did 'bout life. I wanted ya to join me so I wouldn't be as lonely. 'Cause no one wants to start this shit." He started to shake now, "I don't wanna kill ya. That wasn't what I was tryin' ta do."

I pushed him away a little bit. No idea how I forgave him, but I did. I hushed him, because somehow I knew the rest of the story. My knuckles grazed against his cheek, and I connected us at our foreheads. "I don't mind this. Everything's going so crazy, I don't think it matters." I only thought everything was crazy. I think. The only thing I had to worry about was Cartman, my suspension from school, my mom, my brother, Stan liking me, and now this. My neck ached a little more, but I was proud somehow. Those were mark Kenny made on me. It kind of made me feel like I was his. "I don't mind kissing you." I can't remember how it felt though.

He tilted his head a little and moved in closer. Close, but not enough. "You can't remember shit," he whispered, "I took advantage of ya. Ya have no fuckin' idea what's going on." He backed up now, laughing like his old self again. "Plus, ya don't want me. Me? I've fucked more girls than…" His face went blank, "Can't remember. That's how bad it is." He gave out a silent giggle, followed by a snort.

I climbed closer to him and pulled his old hoodie closer to me. "I know exactly what's going on!" I was pissed, then Kenny's face just made me want to burst into laughter. I'm a fucking liar. I have no idea what's going on right now.

Heh heh heh… God, life's overly dramatic sometimes.

Heh heh…


	4. Clean: Four

Clean: Four

No reason, Cold season.

---Start----

I actually smelled shampoo, and it wasn't from my own hair.

That's what I thought about as my mind lifted out from me and became two… and three. Three copies of my thinking floating around the room. I couldn't tell where I was sitting. Or even if I was sitting. Maybe I was standing.

Can dreams wake up?

"I didn't take advantage of you." Kenny?

…

"Ah!" My hand snapped back holding whatever I was holding. When I looked down I clearly saw it was a cigarette. We were at Kenny's. Took me this long to realize it. Had I taken too much? My head was floating so high. High. Is that why they call it high?

"I don't know how ta explain it." Kenny.

He didn't have to explain anything. Some how I knew everything. In my own way.

"You feelin' alright?" Him.

"They sky is raining stars." My eyes turned up and watched the colors spin through my vision. Had to smile. It felt like fireworks.

He looked up at the sky, "What?"

And without another word, I cupped my hands on his cheeks. I kissed him because it felt right. All three parts of my mind told me to, and if I have three different parts of me wanting to I hardly had a choice.

---Melt---

Ken's voice sounded so transparent. It was the only thing I really heard.

"**You really want ta do this?"**

I didn't know what. But I agreed in any way possible because I trusted him.

"**Alright."**

I felt it. Hot. And it was everything. Everything was steaming. Where the hell were we now? I didn't think it mattered. Everything was burning.

"**God…"** I think he agreed. I think… I think he wanted me. I couldn't focus though. I couldn't concentrate on what was going on long enough-

His hands slid up me. But where were my clothes to block them?

"**I want you"**

Me? Me? Again. Me? What was he on? Probably the same thing I was on. But I found myself saying the same thing back to him. What state of my three minds was I looking at myself in?? (Was any of this making any sense?)

It only got hotter from there. Fucking burning of me wanting it, and not knowing what the **it** was. But I knew it was something good.

At least I hoped.

I went stiff. There was a first push. I think I knew what was going on, but I didn't want to come back to reality yet. I panicked. It's all I could do! I felt pain! I had no idea what was happening, or if I was even awake, or dreaming, or dead!

He stopped me. He stopped my body that was fighting. The body I didn't even know was moving. I was looking through a different state of mind.

"**Calm… I'll be gentle."**

I felt the blood boiling through my heart. I trusted him. And my vision stopped my protesting body. I just relaxed. Trying to understand what was going on.

"**You're with me… Just enjoy this."**

After finding myself in a calm state. I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride. I felt happy. Pleasuring happiness. I could no longer feel this pain. This pain I just let go and let myself fall. But this time, I fell to a hot, lustful wonderland. It wasn't mine, but it still _was._

---Addiction---

My head started to feel like Novocain just wore off. I was actually starting to think straight. The room was suffocating with lukewarm bedroom sweat. Reeked of everything unpleasant. I had a feeling I just did something I didn't mean to do.

I was forced to ignore it right now, since my chest was aching for something else. Wanting the bitter burn in my throat, and the taste of nicotine. I picked my naked body from the wet sheets and put on a pair of pants. My eyes fell to the pack on the nightstand and the lighter with it. Without making a sound, I climbed out the window and onto the roof.

---Gagging---

The sun was just barely about to come up through the horizon. No one was out, except the biting cold. I wished I brought my coat, but ignored it as I stuffed a cigarette between my greedy lips and lit it up. My eyes were seeing reality, but I didn't want to.

I closed my eyes and took another hit. Somehow, the backs of my eyelids seemed a lot more peaceful.

My pants vibrated.

"Hello?" I asked, flipping the phone to my ear. I almost wished it was mom. I haven't had a good yelling at for awhile.

"Hi, cutie!" A happy-go-lucky voice of doom. I couldn't think of anyone who would say that besides Stan, so I went with that.

"Dude…" I breathed out, hating the little nickname.

"So, I was thinking…" He let the sentence hang like a little girl (I don't know how that sounds, don't ask). "We should go on a date. Tonight! How about a movie? Seven-ish?" He giggled on the other side of the phone.

It was hard enough to take in all this as it was, "What time is it, dude? Can't be any later than six."

"Yeah, around that time. I'm on my way to school, and well… I heard what happened and know why you haven't been at school. So, I wanted to, you know, see how you were!" Gag me now.

"Mmhmm…" I hummed out, taking on another hit. "I'm a little busy, 'kay? Talk to you… Seven-ish," I practically moaned out, desperately not wanting to talk right now.

"Sounds good! We'll talk more then!" Another cutesy laugh escaped him and hit me, "Buh-bye!"

Snap! My cell phone was officially closed.

My stomach took the wrong loop and ended up making me sick on the side of the trailer's roof.

Bad night.

But a worse morning when I saw who came to visit. There was a fat fucking Hitler at Kenny's door step, about to knock on the rusted over door.

Before I let his knuckles even touch Kenny's property, I came at him with a smart ass comment, "If it isn't the reincarnation of the fucking Nazi prince himself. Why are you here? Don't you have any Jews to burn today, you fat son of a town fucker."

His eyes snapped up to me, forgetting that he was even about to knock on the door now. I noticed his cheeks turned an even deeper crimson than they were before, "Yeah, you!" He screamed up to me. I would have been a lot more scared if I knew he could actually do something. But with a big body like that, there was no way he was getting on the roof of Kenny's home. And if he did, he'd probably fall through it. "I'm still gunna get you back for what you did to muh face!" He pointed to his chubby face, that was scattered with bruises. All from me.

I almost felt proud, as I flicked the cigarette butt at his face. Laughing as it scared the crap out of him, when it didn't even come close to hitting. That's all he is. Words. There's no way he could touch me, let alone _burn_ me. "I can do it again," I suggested with a grin.

He kind of backed off a little after that comment. He knew he couldn't get his ass up here to beat me up, but he knew damn straight I could jump off and come after him. Plus, he had an example of what damage I can do. "Look, I'm just here to see Kenneh!"

Like on cue, Kenny's head popped out of the trailer. "You rang?" He smiled wide, with his missing tooth visibly in sight.

"Hurry up, you poor shit face! I have school to go to!" He spat almost as if those sentences were single words in themselves.

I laughed softly, "Why you still go to school is a mystery in itself. You know you don't learn a thing there."

I practically heard his teeth snap in half from him grinding those crooked teeth, "Say something else and I'll tear that Jewish head of yours off!" He wishes so much to have his way, it almost laughable when he doesn't. It's the worst thing you can do to a guy like him.

But I saw Kenny's eyes on me, almost telling me to cool it with the jokes. Why the two were meet this morning was beyond me anyway. He sneaked out the window with nothing, but his whites and a hoodie as he made his way over to the fat fuck. "How much?" I heard him whisper.

"Forty, only because of your Jew boyfriend up there," I heard him, loud and clear.

"Cartman," He whined unreasonably, "You know I don't have that kind of money."

"How much you have?" He tried to quiet his voice, but it's so piercing, you couldn't miss it for miles.

"Fifteen…" Kenny said with a voice that screamed 'Pity me!'

Whatever they were auctioning off, Kenny's pleads won and Cartman breathed a, "Fine, but you owe me."

I couldn't see much else of what they were doing, only that Cartman left right after in a rush. Probably to catch the bus. His should just walk. He needs the exercise anyway.

I looked down at Kenny with a curious look, "What was that about?"

He climbed up the window and to the roof in mere seconds. He was staring at me in two. He reached into his pocket and took out a sheet, all wrapped in aluminum. A perfectly new, sealed capsules. He scooted closer and placed his finger over his lips with a "Sh."

I whispered to him, "You bought these from fat ass? How?" It really wasn't making much sense. What did Cartman ever have to do with anything?

"He steals them from his mom. All her shit 'n sells it, dude." He smiled wide, "I get first dibs. It's a 'friend' thing. Jus' keep it a secret. Don't tell no one, or we can't get this shit no more."

I nodded with agreement. I was just surprised. I knew Cartman was fat. I knew he was stupid. But I didn't expect him to deal shit. That was news to me.

"Ready ta have more fun tonight?" He smiled eagerly and waved them in my face, "Or should we start early?" He hummed with a little song voice.

"I have a date with Stan tonight, I shouldn't get fucked up more than I need to," I whispered a side note to myself, "No matter how much I'll probably need it while I'm on the stupid thing."

"Aw, such a nice friend," His lips spread wider, over his off-whites as he stole one of his own cigarettes from the pack that was in his hand. "Light me up?" He sat, waiting with his face close to mine.

I flicked the lighter on and did what he asked. I sneaked a small kiss to his cheek as I did it, whispering, "Sometimes, I wonder."

He sucked in a long hit and let the smoke empty into the air before hooking his arms around my neck and dragging me down, on top of him. "I like 'em a lil' naughty," he coughed out a few laughs and let his lips linger close to mine.

Since his lips already smelled of the nicotine, I needed a taste from his lips. Surprisingly warm, compared to the temperature outside. I wondered why I was even doing this stuff. I didn't like Kenny in any sexual way at all. I knew I wasn't in love either. I guess, it was freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted to for the first time. I'm doing it _because_ I know it's wrong. I'm just so sick of being perfect.

---Gay---

I figured I couldn't go on this date alone. So, I made Kenny give me a small dose before I left. With it, I could actually pretend I liked my best friend. Without it, I wouldn't have acted like myself and would have just been bored.

My eyes so vividly enhanced, even the plain, dull remarks the guy made seemed so smart and smooth. Everything flowed well, and my buzz lasted just enough too. Just enough to sit through the movie with my arm around him, bring him home, and manage a kiss 'good-bye.' I gave him a date. What more did he want?

A land slide started when he said, "We should do this again."

I didn't and wouldn't. And I did the stupidest thing I could possibly do.

"I don't think we should," Words, spewing from my mouth. Hardly controlling them. The truth was seeping out every inch of me. I wish I lied, "I'm seeing someone, you know? I didn't want you to find out the hard way." Why did I say that? Why did I say that? WHY did I say that?

Big, glassy eyes looked at me, "I can't believe… My best friend… in the whole world." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lift his arm, but didn't have any functioning reflexes. His palm smashed right at my cheek with a hard 'SLAP!' "All the same… You're just like Wendy! Playing with my emotions! But I expected better from you, Kyle! How could you do this to me!?" He screamed this all to me and slammed the door in my face.

I stood there, trying to register what had just happened and if I really actually said that. Since I was sitting there for ten minutes and he wasn't coming back out, something told me I _did_ do what I think I just did.

God, I'm an idiot.

---Tag, you're it---

There wasn't really a choice anymore. The only place I was heading, was Kenny's. I needed to feed this fading buzz, and I just felt like not caring about the whole situation. I should have said no to begin with. At least I wouldn't have wasted my time.

I got back to a rocking trailer, but I had a feeling Kenny's parents weren't home. As I walked through the front door, I confirmed it. The rhythmic moments from the home was from one of Kenny's costumers.

He only did it for money, and he only collected money for pills. I shouldn't care. I should be happy. But it's the second time I came home and found him with one of his bitches. It kind of makes me want to go in there and smack the shit out of the dumb girl. Or for all I know, guy.

Thirsty. And I hardly had anything to drink all day. No sinks worked in the house, and opening the fridge was a joke. But on the front porch there were cases of beer and stuff. My guess, the fridge doesn't even work.

So, guessing what I did? Snatched a can from the porch and sat myself down on the ground, where I found myself being calmed by the waves of movement the home made. Strangely, reminding me of the nightmare last night was. It was, in fact, a dream in itself. For now, at least.

My finger hooked on the metal can top and felt the fizz spitting at me. I took a sip to stop my thirst. Then, taking a couple more chugs, knowing this was going to be another long night. My hand reached for my much needed 'medicine' and freed it from it's aluminum jail. The pill was happy in it's own evil way. Screaming for me to take the damn thing.

"Forget about these problems… Fuck everyone… They don't care… They can't make you feel free… Not the way I can…"

In love with this numb feeling, my mind was laid to rest. It was right. I wasn't loosing myself each dose, I was finding myself. Me. Everything about me. It knew me and read me like a little kid's book. It knew how my life would start and knew my ending. I wanted to make another end.

"Love me… I'll love you that much back… Take me in and I'll become one with you… There's no emotion you can't feel… No happiness you can't reach…"

I was drawn to it. It was right. I could do anything with it, but I could do nothing without it. It's what I needed for this long, long time. It held me with a tight grip, and I didn't want to let it go. It did help me with my little Stan problem, didn't it?

"I'll help you see the unseen… Take you places you've never dreamt of… Make this cold, empty feeling something warm and beautiful… This world doesn't have to be so dull and grey…"

Teasing me. Testing me. Evil in itself, but so much passion and comfort. Fill my blood and bones with sedating love. Numbing sensations. Sights and touches, no person on Earth could even imagine.

"What are you waiting for…?"

I held my answers in my palm like the delicate piece of hope it was. Answers sent from God and handed to me. Staring and waiting only wanted me to have it more. More, more, and more. My hand cupped over my mouth and the little pill popped into my mouth. Towards my throat. Wanting to swallow. My lips sucked the liquid with it and with a hard gulp, my worries slid down my esophagus. A one way trip down.

And my one way trip up.

---The one named "Kyle"---

My feet danced on the soggy ground of this Hell hole, which seemed like a mystical palace. Dirty, barking dogs enhance my hearing and beautiful music hit my ears. The stars danced with me. Sliding, floating every which way. Touching, feeling them. Little sparkles of life all around me. Singing and laughing with me.

One little star didn't. Sad and crying. So sad. Desperation. How could one little star be left out from the others? They were all so magnificent. So amazing and bright.

My legs fluttered over to the little on and held it in my hands. So little and clueless of what he was missing out. Who cared what the other stars thought. Dance and be like the rest. Laughing with eternal happiness. Smile forever. Live forever in the little happiness of lights. Colors. Feelings.

The small star floated up to me, then danced with the others. With me. With us.

"Kyle!" This voice I knew.

I smiled, looking over to my dear friend Kenny. A wonderful friend. Did he want to dance with the stars too?

"Kyle! What're ya doin' out here?" He didn't look happy. If you weren't happy you couldn't dance.

I couldn't focus on the question, let alone answer it. I turned my back on the sorry, unhappy soul of an existence.

"Kyle! Kyle!" Who is Kyle? His arms tugged at me, trying to stop my movements, "This is ridiculous!"

I pulled away, "Be happy!" My voice sounded sweet to my ears. Sugar happiness topped with love.

He began whispering, "I will. If you get inside 'n stop makin' a scene!"

"Inside," I repeated almost laughing louder than usual. His sentence sounded like a joke. What scene? There was nothing out here but the stars and me.

"Yeah, inside. Let's go," He sounded like he was talking to a little puppy dog. Kyle. If Kyle is me, and I'm a person, why is he talking to me like… I'm not one?

"But the stars aren't inside," I looked up and spun around and round. Easily loosing my balance. I fell into the soggy ground. Soft, but really cold.

Kenny was more paranoid though. He took me by the arms and began to drag me away. I guess he doesn't want to play right now.

---Sometimes---

Looking wide eyed at everything, I didn't see the girl anywhere. Did she leave? But we were having so much fun. I think.

It's not fun now, though. It's dark and Claustrophobic in this home. It's warm and smells horrible. Feeling as if my lungs were collapsing in my chest.

"Dude! Come back to me!" Huh? Come back to who? "Say something! I'm right here!" Who? What? "Talk to me! Are you okay?" Me? I'm fine? "Come on!! Say something to me, damn it!"

"Kenny!" I choked. My ears echoed, sounding like three voices spewed from my mouth.

"Oh my God!" Yeah? "Say something else!" Why's he so scared?

"Kenny, are you okay?" He was scaring me a little bit. He seemed really freaked out.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm fine. I just need to know if you are."

My eyes didn't want to focus on one thing, but I didn't see Ken anywhere. Was he even here with me? Was he even in the same room? Where was he? "Where are you, dude?" I asked tiredly.

"Right here!" He pulled my head up a little and I was very close to his face. "We're in my house. You just passed out. I been trying to wake you up for an hour."

My hands lifted to his face just to make sure it was him. It was. My hands fell to the floor right after. I passed out? I'm the one who he's freaking out about? I couldn't feel myself crying, but I knew I was. I was the one who was scared.

He lifted me into his chest and held me there. "I'm here. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Love is a scary thing.


End file.
